


Retrograde

by Let_Your_Chaos_Explode



Series: Tropes Galore! [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Bathing/Washing, Demeritium poisoning, F/F, Feelings Realization, Flashbacks, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle of Sodden Hill, Post-Canon, Post-War, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Series, Temporary Amnesia, Tropes, War, Yennefer is bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Let_Your_Chaos_Explode/pseuds/Let_Your_Chaos_Explode
Summary: First in a series of common tropes! First is Amnesia.It has been five days since the battle at Sodden. Survivors have been scattered, fleeing the wrath of the brotherhood and the fist of Nilfgaard. Tissaia is skirting death when Yennefer is found with traumatic memory loss.
Relationships: Sabrina Glevissig/Triss Merigold, Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Tropes Galore! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855369
Comments: 47
Kudos: 202





	1. All is Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not totally familiar with the Witcher lore. I’ve just gotten into the show, and I’ve only read The Last Wish. Please forgive me for any errors or incongruities! 
> 
> As always, the characters/settings/items/any familiar things are not mine. I own nothing.

Two Temerian soldiers walked through the massive row of tents carrying a dirty heap of flesh. 

“Healer! We have another live one for you!” One of them called as they lay their burden on the stack of straw haphazardly serving as a cot. 

Honeyed-brown eyes followed the path with sharpened focus. 

“Found her off the Yaruga, we did, as we was watering the horses.” The soldier continued. “Almost missed her. Must be her lucky day.” 

The unfortunate being wore only tatters of scorched cloth which continued to disintegrate with every passing moment. Mud and ash covered most of the skin laid bare. A wild, black mane covered her face. 

“Another one from Sodden, then?” The healer called from a few cots over. “Nilfgaard or mage do you reckon?”

The onlooker covered her face with a protective mask and slid in front of the soldiers, cutting off their response. 

“I’ll take this one. You’re starting to get overwhelmed here.” Her soothing tone persuaded. 

“Overwhelmed? It’s been five fucking days of nothing but death and rot! I’ve had my fair share.” The healer called over his shoulder before returning to his patient. 

With a curt nod, chestnut curls bouncing, the woman dismissed the soldiers and immediately lowered herself next to the woman. With a gentle hand, she pushed away the tangle of tresses to reveal the face of the fallen. 

“Yennefer,” she breathed in a relieved sigh. 

————————————————————

Fire and pain.  
Pain and fire.  
That’s all she knew. 

Bright flashes of blinding flames. 

And blackness. 

The deafening roar of the hellfire around her. 

Silence. 

Smoke and ash clawing through her nose and mouth to fill her seizing lungs. 

Nothingness. 

Screaming, rising from the nothingness into a consuming crescendo and she screamed along with it. 

Yennefer woke to a pair of hands covering her mouth and another set holding her arms tightly above her head. 

“Yennefer, shut the fuck up!” 

“Sabrina!”

“If she gets any louder, the whole Continent will find us here.” 

Yennefer’s eyes re-focused and she reigned in her screams. She was sweating. Every touch against her skin felt like a burn. Panting, and leaking tears, she bit at the hands over her mouth. 

“Ouch! Goddamn it Yen! Fuck!” Said the one that must be Sabrina. 

“Sabrina!”

“She bit me, Triss!” Sabrina hissed. “Fuck off!” 

The other merely rolled her eyes before addressing the woman whose wrists she clasped tight. “Yennefer, please! It’s just us! You were dreaming.” 

Violet eyes shuffled from blue to brown and confusion settled deep on her brows. “Who the hell are you?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls have to convince Yennefer to help Tissaia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter 2! Snippets in _italics_ are flashbacks of memory.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Are you joking?” The one called Sabrina sat back on her knees, away from Yennefer with disbelief plain across her sharp, angled features. 

Triss, too, released her grasp on Yennefer’s person and sat back. The temperature in the already damp room seemed to drop another 20 degrees, doing nothing to soothe the burning of Yennefer’s skin. She used the opportunity to wretch her hands back and clutch them to her chest. 

“Yennefer, what’s the last thing you remember?” Triss asked with concern etched deep into her brows. 

Yennefer sat up slowly. Her mind was foggy, thick with fatigue and fragments of her nightmare. She was overwhelmed by sharp sensations rather than images. Yennefer closed her eyes tight as if to ward off the assault. Her fingers threaded through her greasy hair and pulled. What _was_ the last thing she remembered? 

_“And how much for this beast?”_

_“Six.”_

_“Four.”_

_“Sold!”_

Yennefer raised her eyes to meet Triss’s. “A woman. A witch. She bought my from my father and took me from my family.” 

Triss gave her a tight smile and looked away. 

“We’re fucked.” Sabrina laughed with little humor. 

And this time, Triss stayed silent. 

“Where am I?” Yennefer croaked. “And who the hell are you? I want answers!”

Her questions were again ignored as Sabrina addressed Triss. “What are we going to do? We don’t have time for a hundred year history lesson! Tissaia doesn’t have time.” 

That name sent a wave of warm familiarity through Yennefer. 

“I don’t know but we have to try!” Triss answered brokenly. 

“She can’t help us.” The blonde scoffed. 

“We don’t have any other choice.” 

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on!” Yennefer finally shouted. 

The ground shuddered and stilled with the force of her conviction. 

“Shhh!” They both cried with exasperation, hands shooting out toward her mouth once more. 

“Don’t touch me!” She hissed, slapping the hands away. 

“Yennefer, do you trust me?” The quiet one asked softly. 

Yennefer held her gaze for a tense, unsettled moment. She was in pain, her nerves screaming with every small movement. She was afraid. 

She looked away from the woman’s penetrating stare to take in her surroundings. They seemed to be in a cave of some sort. It was dark, the only light source being a few candles scattered around and torches lining the wall. The flames flickered mockingly. 

The Triss woman sat in what looked to be a hospital gown of some sort. Her neck was wrapped in bandages with a yellowish paste bleeding through. 

Sabrina, for the most part, looked well. Her torso was littered with cuts and bruises. Dried blood crusted in the pools of her ears and her eyes carried a haunted hollowness. 

Her own body shuddered unconsciously, reminding her of her own state. She was nearly naked. Remains of what appeared to be a beautiful gown draped across various limbs. She was filthy, but nothing she wasn’t used to in her little pigpen. Her body ached, but not in the same, familiar pressure of her twisted spine. Yennefer let her hands explore the planes of her form. This was not the body she remembered. This was someone strong, and beautiful. 

“Yennefer, do you trust me?” Triss urged again, rising to her feet. 

She held out her hand for Yennefer to take. Her countenance was kind, and left Yennefer with no feelings of ill will, merely desperation. 

“No.” She answered bluntly with narrowed eyes. “But it seems I don’t have many other options, now do I?”

Yennefer grasped the offered hand and let Triss help her rise to her feet. She stood tall and straight despite the sharp, wet pain that pulled at her abdomen. 

“We need your help.” Was all Triss said before limping off to another chamber deeper within the cave. 

“Please.” Sabrina whispered, haunted eyes wide and begging. 

The blonde nudged her slightly before following the chestnut curls forward. Intrigued, Yennefer followed. She steadied herself against the damp walls, allowing her fingers to trail lightly. In the darkness, she could see a faint, orange glow emanating from her fingertips and creeping up her arm like vines seeking the light. The unsettled feeling in her gut grew. 

Not far along, they round a corner and duck under intricately-carved, stone arches into a wide, but shallow, room. It is just barely tall enough for Sabrina and Yennefer to stand without crouching, something Yennefer refuses to do again now that she has felt the poise of her stature. 

The room itself is warm and moist, heated by a hot spring marked with small, descending steps. In the center of the room is a small altar. Triss stood at the edge of the altar, blocking its contents from view. She fusses, and Yennefer can hear the rustle of cloth as she re-arranges the material on the makeshift bed. Shallow breathing and pained whimpers reach her ears. 

Sabrina sighed and sat defeatedly at the age of the spring, letting her toes dip into the steaming water. Yennefer ignored this, and inched forward with dread and curiosity. 

A slim, pale hand rolls out from under a covering. A low hiss. A sob. 

“Yennefer,” a feminine voice called weakly, raspy and wheezing. 

Yennefer recoils. This woman knows her, and the lack of reciprocity sits in her gut like a stone. 

Triss tucks the hand back under the sheet and presses a wetted cloth to the woman’s forehead. 

“We found her, Tissaia. She is alive.” Triss hushes soothingly. 

Triss bites her lip with despair and turns to look over her shoulder at Yennefer. It is then that she can finally see the ailing woman clearly. 

The woman, Tissaia, looks about as healthy as a corpse. She, too, is bereft of clothing and covered only by a shift and a sheet. Her dark hair is long, matted, and strewn about her head as if it had a life of its own. She is small and pale and clearly dying. This image strikes Yennefer as wrong somehow. Again she feels a stab of fear in her heart. 

“She’s been calling for you.” Sabrina says lowly from the pool. 

“Why me?” Yennefer asked. 

The old feeling of rejection and abandonment bloomed in her chest. She has never been wanted in this life. 

“You were the last one she was seen with before...” 

Sabrina averted her gaze and let the thought trail. Yennefer willed away the sudden rage at the implied accusation. 

“We thought, maybe, you knew what happened to her? How we can help her?” Triss quietly continued. “Or maybe she just wanted you here with her through this.”

Triss ignored Sabrina’s derisive snort and closed her eyes with a sigh. “She doesn’t have much time left.” 

Yennefer dared to step closer, despite the cold grip of fear at her throat. The swirling heat in her veins grew and pulsed in her ears. The woman’s face... 

“Who is she?” She asked, reaching forward. 

The gentle curve of an arched brow, her bowed lips, the dimple of her chin...

“She’s the witch!” Yennefer gasped with recognition. 

“Tissaia De Vries, Rectoress of Aretuza.” Sabrina’s voice dropped both in octave and inflection as she imitated her mentor’s formal introduction. 

Yennefer stepped back quickly, fingers idly tracing the scars at her wrist for a reason unknown to her. 

“Yennefer,” Triss reaches out to her, stalling any escape. 

A keening whine follows Triss’s plea. 

“Yen,” Tissaia breathes. 

Another thrum of fire pulses through her. Yennefer kneels before the altar, passing questioning glances between her two observers. She feels drawn to this woman. Something about her calling to the fire within. And her voice...the way she called to her. She can’t resist. 

Yennefer started to sweat. The pressure of this crazy situation was building and building, threatening to suffocate her. 

Tentatively, she grasped the cool hand of the Rectoress in hers. 

“I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing here.” Yennefer started to mumble over her shoulder. 

When she turned back, the icy blue eyes of the woman beneath her were open. Startled, Yennefer once again made to pull back. The hand in hers tightened, pulling her closer. Tissaia’s free hand cupped her cheek, soothing the persistent burn.   
Her eyes focused and quickly scanned what she could of Yennefer’s body. 

“Oh, my piglet. You foolish girl.” Tissaia sighed as she tucked a lock of hair behind Yennefer’s ear. 

Yennefer unconsciously leaned into the touch as Tissaia’s hand fell away and her eyes drifted shut once more. 

_“That’s adorable, piglet. You weren’t taking control: you were losing it.”_

_“You lost a lot of blood, piglet.”_

_“And welcome back, piglet.”_

It’s too much.   
Yennefer pulls away quickly.   
This is all too much.   
She stumbles to her feet and briskly makes her way out the door. 

“I need some air.” She chokes out behind her. 

She quickly finds the narrow entrance to the cave and squeezes through the opening. It’s raining. The freezing droplets do nothing to quell the heat she feels. The orange glow that had receded at the strange woman’s touch had returned and intensified. 

“That’s the most she has said in three days now.” 

Surprised, Yennefer let’s out a sharp yelp and flames erupt briefly from the palms of her hands. 

Triss holds her own up in a placating manner. 

“I didn’t sign up for this!” Yennefer shouts at her, trying to shake away the flames. “I don’t even know you people!”

She knows it’s a lie. 

Her agitation grows and the flames crawl up her arms. “What’s happening to me!?”

Triss whispers a few words and the flames die, but the burn and the color remain. 

“It’s magic.” She finally says. “That feeling in your fingers, the energy you feel around you, that’s chaos. That’s magic. It’s affected by your emotions.”

Even at this half-assed reasoning, Yennefer can see the worry on Triss’s face as she continues to eye the discoloration of her arms. 

“If you have magic, why don’t you help her?” She snaps, feeling cornered. 

The curly haired woman was too open, Yennefer observes; too vulnerable. Tears easily sprung to the corners of her eyes and hurt made itself very apparent. 

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” She cried. “She has been there for me for decades! She is like my mother. I would give anything to help her and nothing I’ve tried has been working.” 

“If you can’t do anything, what makes you think I’ll be of any use?”

Triss finally loses it. She grabs Yennefer roughly by the shoulders and gives her a shake. 

“Yennefer, you don’t know it, but you are the most powerful mage I have ever met. If you won’t try for me, then at least do it for her. Please.” 

_“If you will not do it for the Brotherhood, then do it for me. Please.”_ The memory intrudes. 

“Please help Tissaia. We need her.” Triss begs. 

_Am I hearing this right? The great Tissaia wants my help?”_

Yennefer screws her eyes tight against the vision. 

_“Please.”_ Tissaia’s memory echoes. 

“Okay.” Yennefer gives. “What do I need to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 will get more in depth interactions between Tissaia and Yennefer


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer and Tissaia have a moment alone. Yennefer finds that she wants to save the Rectoress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but a quick update.

“What do I need to do?”

The storm clouds above continued to rumble, mirroring the hopelessness of their situation. The rainfall clung to Yennefer’s dirty hair and did nothing to make her feel clean. 

“I want to help.” She continued. “I just don’t know how.” 

“Talk to her.” Triss said simply. 

Yennefer scoffed and ducked back inside the cave. 

“Look, she said something to you. We haven’t been able to get anything from her at all. If you can just get her to tell you what happened, maybe we can find a cure.” Triss expanded, following her back under the shelter. 

Yennefer does not answer. She marches determinedly back through the corridor into the arched room. With the briefest hesitation, she entered. 

The woman was still asleep. Sabrina had her hands splayed out over her chest, whispering spells of some sort. At Yennefer’s entrance, Sabrina stilled and retreated. 

“Triss will need a new poultice.” Sabrina said with a tilt of her head. 

She averted her gaze and exited the chamber, leaving Yennefer alone. She stood awkwardly in the center of the room, almost waiting for something to happen. 

Nothing did. 

A rattling cough grabs her attention. It’s wet and gurgling. Again, she feels a strange pull, drawn to the small woman that calls for her. She can feel the need to help push annoyingly at the edge of her consciousness, begging her to remember why. 

Yennefer closes the distance between them and sits gingerly at Tissaia’s side. The movement jars her abdomen, reminding her that she, too, is wounded and requires medical attention. 

Tissaia’s face is pale and grey, covered extensively in dirt, blood, and ash. Nobody has even thought to clean her. She stirs and the sheet slides to her waist. She wears only a thin slip. It, too, is marred with grime and blood. Tissaia shivers despite the heat of the room and Yennefer instinctively rights the blanket. Unable to fight the urge, Yennefer reaches out to brush the hair out of Tissaia’s face. Her fingers linger in a soft caress, tracing from her cheek to the angle of her jaw. Tissaia’s skin feels like ice. The coolness feels like heaven against her scorching fingertips. Yennefer let’s out a relieved sigh as the feeling starts to travel up her arm. 

“You look like shit, piglet.” The woman rasps, lifting her own hand to cover Yennefer’s as she tries to pull away, pressing her more firmly against her cheek. 

Yennefer bristles at the comment, unsure of how it should be received. “You should see yourself! Death itself would be confused as whether or not to take you.” 

“Well, I’m not dead yet. He can wait at least a day or two.” Tissaia smirks. 

An ugly cough clambers up her throat then, and she pulls away. Unexpectedly, Yennefer misses the contact. The coolness recedes and she is left again with a hot, anxious energy that washes over her. Curious.

Tissaia discreetly wipes blood from the corner of her mouth and winces. A shallow breath, a whine, a death rattle. 

“What happened to you, Rectoress?” Yennefer questions her. 

“Back to Rectoress, are we? I thought we’d moved past such formalities.” The woman hedges. 

Yennefer waffles on whether or not to inform the sorceress of her own troubles before deciding against it. If she is dying, it would only be a waste of the poor woman’s last moments. 

Tissaia’s eyes grow unfocused and Yennefer can see the last of her energy waning. This moment of lucidity will not last and she mustn’t waste it. 

“Please! What happened? How can I help?” 

“Have you ever used that word before?” Tissaia mocks weakly. 

Yennefer reels back as if slapped. The déjà vu leaves her head pounding. Guilt rises up her throat and leaves her feeling sick and uncertain as to why. 

“Dimeritium.” Tissaia whispers and falls silent. 

The word means nothing to Yennefer, and yet she shudders with dread. She leans in to ask more and finds Tissaia already asleep. She stands and exits the chamber, hoping this is enough information for Triss to work with. 

As she leaves, the flames of the torches seem to follow her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying healthy and sane. More intimate Yennaia in the next coming chapters! This is a slow-burn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer learns the nature of demeritium and refuses to accept Tissaia’s fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to a longer chapter 4! 
> 
> Again, text in _italics_ is memory
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr with the username: let-your-chaos-explode

Yennefer found the two women at the entrance of the cave. Triss sat against the wall breathing deeply through her nose as Sabrina applied some sort of paste to her neck. The entirety of her throat was charred and burned. The flesh itself seemed to want to melt away. Yennefer swallowed a gag at the sight. Sabrina applied the last of the paste with a practiced touch and wrapped the wound with a fresh bandage. 

“How was she?” Triss asked as she turned to face her. 

“I don’t really have a whole lot to compare, but I imagine not well.” Yennefer said, furrowing her brows. 

Sabrina tried to hide a smirk at the quip with a quick cough. 

“Did she say anything?” Triss continued. 

“She said one word: demeritium.” 

Sabrina’s calm facade finally cracks. She falls hard against a column and lets out a gasp. The blonde let her body fall to the floor, her knees cracking against the stone. Unrestrained, tears start falling from her eyes. 

Triss is in a similar state. She rests her forehead against the floor and allows her anguish to to be felt openly. 

At their reactions, Yennefer feels the dread she carries more potently. She did not expect good news, but now she feels like she has delivered a death sentence. 

Yennefer shuffled closer to the mourning women. She clearly is no source of comfort, but this can’t go on. The desperate need to salvage the situation rings like an alarm. 

“What does it mean?” She asks them urgently. 

Sabrina does not deign to answer. She rises sharply and carries her grief out the door. 

“It means there is no hope.” Triss sobs. “There is no known cure.”

Hot fury builds in her chest. “No. I refuse to accept that. Tell me what it does!”

The candles around them roar to inconceivable heights. 

Triss wipes away her tears, but they continue to fall. “It is a poison. It feeds off the mage’s magic until there is nothing of them left. No magical methods can help her. She will die.” 

At this declaration, the candles explode. 

Triss lights a new torch with equal parts fear and awe. 

This time, Yennefer remembers herself encouraging others in the darkness: _“We can’t give up. We can still fight.”_

She echoes it again to Triss, “We can’t give up on her. We have to fight. To sit and do nothing, to let death simply take her...this isn’t the answer.” 

“Yennefer,” Triss sighs. 

Her energy pulses again. She feels like she has lava in her veins. It courses through her and she feels hot...and powerful. 

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” Yennefer says lowly. 

She doesn’t know why. It felt like something she would say. She could feel the pieces of herself slowly falling into place. Too slow for her liking. 

Yennefer takes control and forges ahead to Tissaia’s room, Triss trailing behind. This time she doesn’t hesitate. 

“Tissaia,” Yennefer probes gently. “Tissaia, wake up.” 

Triss wets a new cloth and again presses it to Tissaia’s temple. 

“Yennefer?” Tissaia groans incoherently. 

Sweat has accumulated against the woman’s brow and a fresh stream of blood dribbles from her nose. 

“Tell me what to do.” Yennefer pleads. 

A heaving cough seizes the small woman’s body. More blood splatters from the cough, staining the white sheet. This time, the blood shines with an iridescent, blue hue. 

“Don’t touch it!” Triss warns.

Tissaia remains unconscious and Triss pulls the sheet away by the corner, making sure to fold over the blood stains. 

Yennefer grows inpatient. She climbs next to Tissaia and cradles her face with both hands. She feels all her anxiousness, her fiery passion, her rage...she feels it ebb away in waves. As if she herself could be washed away like sand in the ocean tide. 

“Tissaia, you have to wake up.” She whispers again. 

“Yennefer, your arms!” Triss exclaims, pulling her from the unexplained intimacy she was feeling. 

The orange streaks along her body had started to recede once more, concentrating at the hands that still cupped the woman’s cheeks. The energy itself seemed to be pouring out of her and into Tissaia. Yennefer’s eyes followed the path. 

Tissaia’s face had taken on a healthier pallor, creeping slowly down the column of her neck. Her breathing, too, had deepened and sounded less forced. 

“What the fuck?” Sabrina interrupts. 

Yennefer snatches her hands back and stares at them in confusion. “I take it that’s not normal, then?”

Sabrina grabs her arms and raises them to achieve a closer inspection. 

“Your magic!” She exclaims, tracing the rivers of fire up to her shoulder. “The demeritium was leeching off of your magic!”

“Do you think it could give Tissaia more time?” Triss asks, grabbing Yennefer’s other arm. 

“How long do you think before it consumes Yennefer completely? She is clearly not immune.”

“If she does it in bursts, maybe a few extra days.”

“I’m standing right here.” Yennefer interrupts. 

“How is she doing it?”

“She clearly has no control of her chaos. Look, she’s got it all bottled up. Manipulating so much at Sodden Hill and not properly dispelling it. She’s got excess chaos to burn.”

“Still here.” Yennefer adds again. 

“Can a woman not even die for a moment of peace?” 

The exasperated comment from the bed finally silences the room. 

“Tissaia?” Sabrina asks tentatively, untrusting of the lucidity of her mentor in the moment. 

“Yes, dear?” 

Sabrina chokes on her relief and embraces the Rectoress tenderly. 

“It’s been days Tissaia. We didn’t think we would ever hear you speak to us again!” Triss clarifies, clasping the woman’s hand and kissing it affectionately. 

Yennefer stands to the side, unsure of herself or her place in this moment. Tissaia did not let it last. With a soft smile and an extension of her free hand, she pulls Yennefer in to join the embrace. 

Tissaia rests her forehead against Yennefer’s and breathes deep, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

_”You saved me,”_

Pain erupts behind Yennefer’s eyes and she carefully pulls away. 

_“I won’t ever forget that.”_

But she had. And the emotions she felt swirling inside her let her know that she would never again allow herself to forget that. 

Yennefer digs the heels of her hands into her eyes and shakes away the memory. 

Tissaia coughs again and detangles herself from her students. “Water, if you would.” 

Yennefer snorts and somehow knows this is the closest the Rectoress gets to saying ‘please.’

Ocean blue eyes train on her and she feels an annoying prickling at the edge of her consciousness. Yennefer’s eyes snap to Tissaia’s and the sensation dies. At the same time, Tissaia howls and vomits blood and bile at her bedside. 

“Tissaia, you must refrain from using any magic!” Triss scolds, pushing a ceramic bowl of rainwater into Tissaia’s hands. “It will only kill you faster.” 

She takes delicate sips of the water and Yennefer can’t help but watch the movement of her slender throat. Tissaia’s eyes never leave hers. Yennefer wants to look away but raises her chin higher instead. She wonders if she and the Rectoress have ever been intimate. She knows she feels something for this woman, but can’t pinpoint exactly what. Her fractured memories provide her with nothing solid to work with, only an unresolved tension. The other two clearly see her as more of a mother. Yennefer tries to imagine them in that role, but it feels forced; Like trying to shove a square peg into a round hole, it just doesn’t fit right. 

A sudden crash brings Yennefer back. The ceramic bowl Tissaia was holding lie shattered on the floor. Her focus was fading once more and Yennefer just wanted more time. If she had more time, maybe she could remember something useful. Maybe she could pull a miracle out of her ass and save this woman. She remembered enough, at least, to know that Tissaia’s death would be a devastating blow. 

“Tissaia, what do I do?” Yennefer asks, returning to her side. 

“Oh piglet.” Tissaia smiles through the pain. “You must learn to accept what cannot be changed.”

Yennefer swallows hard and feels tears at the ready. “I can’t let you die.”

She can’t have been saved by Tissaia just to be left alone like this. It wasn’t fair. 

“You can. You must.” The Rectoress whispers. 

_“You can! Everything you have ever felt. Everything you’ve buried. Forget the bottle. Let your chaos explode.”_

Yennefer impulsively grabs Tissaia by the back of her neck and pulls her in for a despairing kiss. She finally lets the tears fall down her face. 

It’s an ugly kiss. It’s bloody and full of dirt, sweat, and ash. Yennefer pours everything into the kiss: her anger, her grief, her desperation. She feels herself losing control and tries to reign it in, but it’s too late. Chaos explodes from her body and flows like lightening into Tissaia’s chest. 

Triss and Sabrina dive behind the arched columns and shield their eyes. The force of the explosion throws everything within the chamber, including Yennefer. She feels her back slam into the stone wall before she falls to the floor. 

She watches as Tissaia arches off of the bed in a silent scream and crashes back down onto the altar. 

Yennefer’s hand inspects the back of her head and it comes back bloody. It can wait.  
She needs to get to Tissaia. Is she okay?

Her eyes try to fight the blackness creeping in at the edges, but she’s losing. 

She needs Tissaia. 

Her vision fades. 

Tissaia. 

**She remembers.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our story is coming to a close. A few more chapters left, I think.
> 
> Again, I am accepting prompt requests for future Yennaia fics! 
> 
> Be well everybody.


	5. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls race to come up with a plan that can save Tissaia. Yennefer and Tissaia share a moment alone for an emotional heart-to-heart.

She _remembers._ She remembers _everything._

From her earliest memories as an ugly, hunchback child to incinerating the entirety of the Nilfgaardian army. She remembers. 

Every inch of her body aches. The stab wound at her belly rages it’s discontent and her back argues in unison. And her head throbs to the beat of her racing heart. Vomiting sounds like a great option, but her abdomen begs her otherwise. 

_Tissaia!_

Yennefer pries her eyes open. Her sight is clouded by a tangled, brown mass. She can’t feel her left arm and her right rests loosely on a slim waist. 

“Tissaia.” She sighs in relief. 

Yennefer holds her a little tighter and ignores the strand or two of hair that have invaded her mouth. She can feel her breathing deep and easy. She is alive. 

Yennefer’s chest, however, feels cool and numb; a dramatic difference from the insatiable heat she felt before. She reaches out with her thoughts to Triss and Sabrina. The effort is exorbitant and unsuccessful. Her body is too weak and her attunement with the chaos around her has been severed. 

The demeritium. She has been too close to Tissaia for too long, but she seems to have bought her some time. 

“You’re awake!” 

Sabrina and Triss rush to her side. 

“We thought the both of you died!” 

“No, but I seem to be trying my best.” Yennefer grumbles. 

She slowly removes her left arm from under Tissaia’s weight. With the grace of a newborn giraffe, she disentangles herself from the other woman and falls from the altar. 

“You kept reaching for her.” Triss starts. 

“And she for you.” Sabrina continues. 

“We gave up and let you two be. It was pointless to separate you when you wouldn’t sit still. We were worried you would injure yourselves further.” 

Yennefer blushes slightly. There was no doubt something had shifted in her relationship with Tissaia at Sodden. That was something she wasn’t ready to explore yet. She had other priorities. 

Sabrina reaches down and helps Yennefer to her feet. “You were out for an hour. Maybe two.” 

“Sabrina, what do you know about herbology?” Yennefer asks impatiently. 

“Nothing more than the basic training. That’s definitely more of Triss’s expertise.” Sabrina answers. 

Yennefer cringes at this answer and inspects Triss fully. “We don’t have any other choice.”

She starts to pace. 

“We need...we need...no that won’t do.” Yennefer mutters to herself. 

She turns sharply to Sabrina again. “We need reachcluster. Reachcluster and scarix. Maybe some celandine too.”

“Yennefer, these are really rare ingredients.” Triss interrupts. “Finding them all will take too long. Especially when Sabrina has no experience.”

“Don’t interrupt!” Yennefer snaps and then softens with guilt. “Sabrina, you’re the most physically capable to tolerate the travel. Go to the Temple of Melitele. It’s the only place you’ll find these plants.” 

Triss starts to object once more but is silenced by Yennefer’s glare. 

Yennefer pulls Sabrina to the side. Into her palm she gently presses her star pendent. She pulls her tightly into a friendly hug. 

“I forgive you.” Yennefer whispers in her ear. “Go to the temple. Tell Neneke I sent you and give her the pendant. While you’re there, get yourself something for the nightmares.” 

“What makes you think she will help?” Sabrina questions. 

“She’s a priestess, it’s her job.” Yennefer smiles. “And she’s a friend.”

“Find a horse and ride fast, but stay hidden. Do not make waves, Sabrina!” Triss fusses. 

Yennefer watches from the corner of her eye as the two women clasp hands. Triss murmurs something against the crook of Sabrina’s neck and Yennefer averts her gaze, allowing them the privacy of their subtle intimacy. 

“If you don’t stop, you can get there and back in a few days, assuming Neneke doesn’t try to mother you.” Yennefer calls over her shoulder as she strides back to Tissaia’s peacefully sleeping form. 

After assuring herself that the Rectoress was content, Yennefer started scouring the chamber for supplies. 

The antiquated, elven chamber was seemingly long-forgotten and barren of anything useful. She managed to scrounge up a few ceramic bowls, some old oils, a mortar and pestle, and dusty cloths. It wasn’t nearly enough. 

“What are you planning?” Triss questions. 

Yennefer turns to her and peels back the fresh bandage covering her throat. 

“One more salve and then I think we can mend the tissue.” Yennefer tells her quietly before returning the bandage. 

“Basic healing lesson 101, course refresher!” Yennefer exclaims with a dramatic flair. 

She moves to Tissaia and uncovers her peacefully sleeping form. Gently, she pushes and prods her until she is lying on her side, voicing her complaints with incoherent mumbling and what sounded like a ‘Damn it, Yennefer,’ thrown in for the sake of it. 

“Question number one! When someone has been infected with a poison or a venom, and you are a commoner with no magic to speak of, what do you do?”

“You draw out the toxin or you neutralize it.” Triss answers quickly. 

“Question number two: the poison has no obvious entry sight. How do you draw it out?” Yennefer continues to question. 

“Bloodletting.” Triss answers simply. “But Yennefer, that’s barbaric! We don’t even know half of what we need to!”

“We do.” Yennefer answers quietly, pulling the shift away from Tissaia’s body.

The whole underside of her back is a deathly mixture of blue, black, and red. 

Triss gasps and reaches out to touch the exposed skin. “It is in her lungs.” 

“We need to draw out the demeritium and no magical means will do. It will simply neutralize the magic. We need her to expel what she can from her lungs and bleed out what has already been absorbed into her bloodstream. We need to siphon the contaminated blood and replace it with clean blood.” 

“How do you even know this will work? This can kill her!” Triss worries as she starts to pace. 

“Which would you prefer, Triss?” Yennefer argues back. “Would you prefer to slowly drown in your own blood, cut off to every piece of the chaos that makes you feel whole and in earth shattering agony? Or weakened from blood loss, surrounded by the people you love as they try their damn best to give you a fighting chance?” 

“I don’t suppose I get even the smallest say in how I die?” Tissaia snaps. 

“No.” Yennefer answers petulantly. 

Triss helps Tissaia move into a seated position and quickly retreats as Tissaia swats her helping hands away. 

“You look stronger.” Triss smiles slightly, all attempts at positivity falling flat. 

“Spare me the pep talk, Triss. I know it’s only a matter of time.” Tissaia sighs.

Yennefer grabs Triss gently by the elbow and starts leading her out the chamber. “Go get some needles, some tubing, some bandages, and some new clothes from the medical tents. They still have those set up, I imagine. Get some ale for yourself and see you later. I’ll need your help! Be safe, bye!”

Yennefer shoves her the last bit of space under the arches, gives a quick wave, and immediately returns to Tissaia’s side. She sits in front of her and brushes the chestnut mane away from her face. 

“Tell me everything you are feeling. Do not leave any detail out, no matter how insignificant you feel it to be.” 

“Heartbroken. Relieved. Regretful.” Tissaia says with a moment of pause between each thought. 

“That’s not at all what I meant and you know it.” Yennefer bites, pinching her brow. 

Tissaia stiffly turns her neck to observe the woman before her. “I thought you died.” 

Yennefer opens her mouth to volley a snarky reply but clicks her teeth shut at the pain Tissaia is so openly expressing. 

“I thought I had dragged you into this hellish mess only for you to perish. For you to follow me into the arms of death so willingly.” Her words catch in her throat, wet and thick. “Right at the moment when I can finally think that you may not hate me so much.” 

Yennefer looks away and combats the guilt that threatens to consume her. 

“Maybe I hated you once. A long time ago.” She admits. 

Yennefer stands and hisses again from the injury at her side. 

“You’re hurt.” Tissaia interjects, attempting to sweep away her vulnerability. 

Yennefer ignores her. “I thought I was in love once.” 

Tissaia straightens the sheets to mask her insecurity, but Yennefer knows it’s there. 

She continues. “It never felt entirely right. I was happy enough, stimulated enough, free enough. I thought I could be happy with the lot that had been given to me.”

Yennefer walks over to the spring and scoops some water into one of the bowls. 

“As you pointed out before, I just was never satisfied.” 

She adds some of the oils to the steaming water and kneels behind Tissaia’s rigid form. Her energy is already fading. 

“Turns out, the djinn decided one more joke was befitting for my attempt at world domination, and per the Witcher’s request, my fate was tied to his. None of what I felt was real. No more than the possibility of ever bearing a child was.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Tissaia whispers. 

Yennefer does not ask permission. She peels the remains of Tissaia’s underclothes from her shoulders and lets her eyes rake over the perfect slope of her neck. Out of respect, she doesn’t let it slide any farther. She soaks the cloth in the bowl and wipes it across the woman’s slender shoulders. 

“Tissaia, the only moments in my wretched life that I have truly felt anything were moments with you in it: Fear, hate, humiliation, resentment, jealousy...”

With a practiced hand, Yennefer combs through Tissaia’s hair and starts to give it a simple braid, tucking it up in a makeshift bun. 

She continues slowly, trailing her fingers over the exposed shoulders. “Awe, excitement, desire...”

Yennefer feels Tissaia shiver and her breathing catch. Her next breaths are shallow and guarded. Yennefer stills her fingers and presses her forehead between the woman’s blades. 

“Oh my dear piglet, over five-hundred years on this continent and I’m finally out of time.” Tissaia says. 

Yennefer turns her around as forcefully as she feels she can given their states. 

“I’m going to fix this.” She tells her forcefully. “Don’t say that like this is the end.”

Tissaia grabs her hands weakly and interlocks their fingers. “Let me die, Yennefer. Allow me at least the dignity of that. You are merely prolonging the inevitable.” 

“No!” She denies vehemently. “Tissaia De Vries, YOU have so much left to give. I will not be satisfied in any life. Not ever. Not without you in it. Tissaia, please. I need you.”

Tissaia allows a watery smile and lowers herself back down onto her makeshift bed. She turns her head and coughs deep into the crook of her elbow. It isn’t as bad as it has been, but it rudely reminds Yennefer that this time with Tissaia has been merely borrowed. 

“I don’t want to argue with you.” Yennefer tells her sadly, helping to make the woman comfortable. 

Tissaia chokes on a laugh before dissolving into a cough. “That would be the first time!”

She swats the Rectoress in mock outrage before moving to leave the room. 

“Wait.” Tissaia calls softly.

Yennefer stops in the doorway and reluctantly meets Tissaia’s sorrowful eyes 

“No matter what happens, Yennefer, I am so very proud of you. _You_ are my legacy.” 

Neither fight the tears that fall as Yennefer exits the chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line, what did you think? 
> 
> Next chapter is in the works! Just remember, things have to get worse before they get better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer and Tissaia get some emotional bonding time, an intimate bathing experience, and shared grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter for you all. I apologize for the updating delay and the overall tease of this chapter.

Yennefer lets her sleep. It doesn’t feel like long, but her gauge of the passage of time has been warped. 

She busies herself scrounging for edible foliage. Yennefer has made sure to stay close to the safe haven Triss established for them. She refuses to put Tissaia any more at risk in her vulnerable state. Not until they could further assess the political tides. She manages to find some bitter berries, a handful of mushrooms, and some leek. It’s not much, but it will be something. 

Yennefer takes her haul back inside. The sun has already started to set and she feels a whisper of worry. Triss should be back soon. 

Tissaia is already awake when Yennefer returns. Wordlessly, she passes the other woman the collection of berries. 

“I’d rather not.”

Yennefer can’t stop her eyes from rolling. Of course there was no ‘thank you,’ or anything remotely polite from the Rectoress. Especially not after having said something with emotional depth hours prior. 

“You need to eat. It’s been too long already.” Yennefer urges with a sigh. 

Tissaia cringes with distaste but complies, popping the bitter berries in her mouth. At Yennefer’s piercing stare, she finishes the rest. 

“You reek of smoke and death.” 

Yennefer inhales deeply, counts to five, and slowly exhales. 

It doesn’t help. 

“Well you’re no spring flower either!” She hisses. 

“Yes, well forgive me for dying.” Tissaia replies with a weak cough and a healthy amount of sarcasm. 

Yennefer does nothing to hide the hurt that flashes across her face. She steps closer and kneels before the raised bed. Tentatively, she holds Tissaia’s hand in her own and cringes at the cool numbness that teases her fingers. 

“Do you think I am taking joy in this?” Yennefer questions. 

She searches Tissaia’s eyes desperately, but she is shuttered. Tissaia has never been an easy one to read. And for decades, Yennefer had been convinced that the sorceress couldn’t feel anything at all. 

Tissaia doesn’t answer. She swallows hard and turns away, attempting to pull her hand with her. Yennefer refuses her attempt and holds tighter. 

“Please don’t do this.” Yennefer implores. “Something has shifted between us. I know you feel it too. You felt it at Sodden and you feel it now. Please don’t shut me out now.” 

Tissaia inhales sharply and steels her jaw. “I am _dying_ Yennefer. The demeritium will take me in the end.”

She finally meets Yennefer’s eyes. Pain and regret paint them a dull grey and Yennefer finally understands. 

“You don’t want me to follow you.” 

Tissaia closes her eyes and her face falls back into a blank mask. “I have nothing left to give.” 

“That is bullshit!” Yennefer seethes, standing in a rage. “This isn’t you. This isn’t the Great Tissaia De Vries! She would be fighting till she could no more. When did you become such a coward?”

“How dare you!” Tissaia growls low in her throat. “Do you have any idea what this is like? To be cut off from such a deep-rooted piece of yourself, a piece of your soul, after more than 500 years?”

“It must not mean as much as you say if you’re not even willing to try!” Yennefer snaps back. 

Her fury builds and she feels the chaos around them respond in kind. The fire in her veins calls out, reaching blindly for an escape. The fires around them answer the siren’s call and come alive. 

“Do you even care what your death would mean to the Continent? To Triss and Sabrina? To _me?_ ”

“Yennefer...”

“ _No!_ I listened to you talk for decades! You don’t get to talk right now.”

She knows she’s losing it but she can’t control the emotions warring within. She’s pacing and her hair starts to rise with static energy. 

“You don’t get to just _die_! That isn’t even a choice for you. You can’t just come back into my life like this, give me a purpose, give my life meaning again, and decide to leave.” She rages. 

And then she stops. She stops pacing and the energy around her dies as swiftly as a candle blown out for the night. She falls to her knees again and rests her head in Tissaia’s lap, burying her face in the coverings. 

“You can’t.” She cries defeatedly. 

Tissaia hesitates and then threads her fingers through Yennefer’s disastrous hair. 

“Yennefer,” she sighs softly. “You have meant...so much to me from the moment I brought you to Aretuza. You reminded me of myself, and yet I knew you could be everything that I never could. I do not want to be the reason that you do not become all that you are meant to be.” 

“Then _fight!_ ” Yennefer argues, raising her head to meet her gaze. “Teach me! I need you.” 

Tissaia turns her head away, unwilling to continue the argument. She lets the tension settle with a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“You still smell.” 

And Yennefer knows she’s won. At least for now. She pulls away and fists away any traces of her earlier meltdown. After all, there wasn’t anything uglier than a crying sorceress. 

“Time to do something about that, then.” She answers throatily. 

She turns her back to Tissaia and wastes no time dragging her destroyed dress down her body. She is thankful that she has never taken a liking to undergarments when she hears Tissaia splutter behind her. She throws her hair over her shoulder and catches Tissaia’s eyes as they whip away from her form. 

“Would you like to join me?” She invites her with a coy smile. 

Yennefer revels in the warm blush that climbs up Tissaia’s neck. She at least cannot hide _that_. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Tissaia grumbles from her stone bed, refusing to look in her direction. 

“Oh come on. I know you would kill for a soak and clean hair.”

Silence. 

“I promise I won’t be inappropriate.” 

Tissaia snorts. 

“Unless you want me to...”

“Yennefer!” 

Yennefer merely shrugs in response. She is who she is, that’s never going to change. She watches Tissaia seemingly pray to some deity above before meeting her eyes. 

“I...” she trails off reluctantly. 

Yennefer, for once, stays silent and lets Tissaia find her words. 

“I need...help.” She admits painfully. 

Yennefer does not acknowledge this weakness. She’s not so cruel as to mock her for that. She turns fully to face Tissaia and wordlessly helps the woman from the bed. Tissaia’s gaze remains firmly ahead of them as they slowly traverse the few feet to the steaming hot spring. By the time they reach the edge, Tissaia is winded and wheezing. Yennefer helps her sit on the ledge with her legs resting in the pool. 

“I’m going to help you undress.” Yennefer says as Tissaia coughs once more. 

“I am a grown woman, thank you very much!” She gasps through the cough, slapping Yennefer’s hands away. 

The thought is interrupted as Tissaia finally looks at the woman next to her. 

“You’re hurt.”

It’s not a question, but Yennefer answers anyway. “Sabrina stabbed me with an arrow. She wasn’t quite herself.” 

“Why haven’t you healed yet?” Tissaia questions, letting her fingers whisper against the raw and reddened outline of the wound. 

Instinctively, she tries to heal it. She calls to the chaos around her and feels it snaps like a rubber band. It leaves her feeling numb and sick. Tissaia pulls back quickly as if burned and starts to heave. The burning taste of the berries crawls up her throat. She turns away and clenches her eyes against the pain. 

“Breathe.” Yennefer guides, rubbing her back. 

After several moments, Tissaia composes herself and turns back. She feels her hackles raise in defense but let’s the fight drain out of her when she sees no pity on Yennefer’s face. 

“Go on, then.” Tissaia gestures weakly in Yennefer’s direction. 

Yennefer shrugs again. “I’ve never been good at healing myself. Others, yes.” 

She lets the memory of her stolen womb linger only for a moment before she clears her throat. 

“You can’t get in with that open wound.” Tissaia commands her. “You’re begging for sepsis.”

Yennefer shifts uncomfortably. She is awful at admitting that she isn’t the best at something. A very well known fact. And being expected to perform the act she is mediocre at gives her anxiety almost to the levels of when she was a student and couldn’t lift that fucking stone. Tissaia does nothing to quell that anxiety as she stares at her expectantly. 

With great embarrassment, Yennefer turns around and casts a knitting spell under her breath. She hisses through her teeth as the angry flesh pulls itself back together. After a painful few seconds, it is over. 

“There. Can I get in now?” Yennefer asks petulantly. 

She can’t control the goosebumps that erupt over her skin as Tissaia once again brushes the sensitive flesh of her abdomen. 

“You left a scar.” Tissaia criticizes after her inspection. 

“Yeah, well, I told you I suck at it.”

With no further comments, Yennefer slides into the water. The hot water feels like heaven against her battle-worn muscles and she immediately dunks her head to soak her hair. She keeps her back turned, attempting to allow Tissaia some semblance of independence and privacy. The glasses of scented oils rest on the ledge along with the cloths and what she hopes is a salvageable soap. She samples the scents and soaks one of the cloths. She hopes Tissaia finds sandalwood and vanilla inoffensive. 

When she finally turns around, Tissaia is still seated at the edge of the pool. 

“You stubborn old witch.” Yennefer says exasperatedly. “It won’t kill you to ask for help.” 

She wades over to Tissaia and rises to her full height between the woman’s legs. Yennefer watches closely as Tissaia’s eyes follow the rivers of water that cling to her chest before looking anywhere but at her. With a wild grin, Yennefer let’s her fingers trail up the pale skin of Tissaia’s thighs as they grasp the edge of her slip. The slim legs clench hard against her waist in an unspoken warning. Unphased, Yennefer’s fingers continue their journey. She lets them glide slowly up the sides of her hips and waist as the silken material bunches. With unparalleled restraint, she lets her fingers fall away from Tissaia’s skin, grasping only the fabric as she pulls it swiftly over the woman’s head and down her arms. Tissaia immediately crosses her arms to cover her chest. 

The steam from the water has clung to the flyaway hairs at Tissaia’s temple and neck, curling them slightly. Her neck and cheeks have flushed a deep red, whether from the heat or from Yennefer’s touch, she is unsure. She appears smaller than Yennefer ever remembered her being. Without the armor of her high-collared dresses, leather gloves, and high-heeled boots, she seems impossibly delicate. 

“You’re staring.” Tissaia mutters uncomfortably. 

“Prude.” Yennefer fires back, choosing to ignore the fact that Tissaia was caught moments earlier doing the same, exact thing. 

Yennefer takes a step back to give her more of a feeling of control. “Can you stand?”

“Well enough. Now turn around!”

Yennefer obeys and hears the gentle splash of Tissaia sliding into the water. She feels a hot throb of arousal as Tissaia moans in pleasure. 

“Alright. You may turn around.” 

Yennefer is slightly disappointed to see that the water reaches just above Tissaia’s breasts, protecting her modesty. 

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” Yennefer smirks. 

Tissaia rolls her eyes and grabs a cloth and the old soap. Without any hesitation, she starts scrubbing gently at Yennefer’s face. She works slowly and with deep concentration in her task, ignoring Yennefer completely. She moves down to her neck and lifts Yennefer’s arms, careful not to miss an inch. And Yennefer can’t take her eyes off of her. 

Tissaia moves around her and begins on her shoulders, gentling her movements around the scar at her shoulder. This time, she doesn’t ask. 

“Lean back.” The Rectoress commands so quietly, Yennefer almost missed it over the pounding of her heart in her ears. 

Yennefer lets herself go and lets the water carry her. She rests her head in the crook of Tissaia’s shoulder and can feel her breasts brush teasingly against her back. She does not hold back her sigh of ecstasy as Tissaia’s nails rake through her hair, untangling the knots and lathering the locks with soap. 

“Don’t be obscene.” Tissaia scolds, but continues her task. 

In all her sexual conquests, Yennefer has never experienced anything so erotic. She almost cries when she feels Tissaia rinse the now clean hair and nudge her forward. 

“I imagine you can manage the rest.” Tissaia says bluntly as she hands Yennefer the soap and cloth. 

“Fucking tease.” She mumbles so Tissaia can’t hear. 

With less detailed care, Yennefer completes her wash and finishes with a quick once-over with the oiled cloth for fragrance. 

Tissaia is at the ledge with her arms stretched out to support her and her head is thrown back in a posture of complete relaxation. Yennefer has never seen anything so beautiful. 

Her sudden, wheezing cough reminds them of the nature of their situation. The cough ends, but the wheeze remains. 

“Let’s get you washed and back into bed. The steam is likely loosening the demeritium in your lungs. Coughing some of it out would be a good thing.” 

Yennefer pulls Tissaia back in the same manner that she had done for her. With practiced fingers, she loosens the bun at her neck and releases the braid. Reluctantly, she keeps her eyes on the hair in front of her rather than Tissaia’s exposed chest. 

Idly, she notices the numbness that has started to spread up her hands and through her chest, leaving her feeling weak and cold. She finishes Tissaia’s hair and makes quick work of the rest of her body. Tissaia has not spoken and the only sounds between them are the gentle ripples of water and her rattling breaths. She sits up and leans forward against the spring’s edge. 

Yennefer pulls herself out and dries, conjuring herself a simple set of dressing robes. 

“Yennefer...” Tissaia calls with an ugly wheeze. 

Yennefer returns to the pool and helps pull the woman from the water. Tissaia falls immediately to her knees with a series of wet coughs. Yennefer dries her quickly and conjures her into a soft, cotton nightgown. She does not ask permission and lifts the petite woman into her arms, carrying her to the bed. She is rewarded with another round of coughs. Yennefer is unsurprised to see the shimmering blue of the demeretium in the spittle at her elbow She takes a fresh cloth and wipes away the traces of the vile poison from Tissaia’s skin. 

Yennefer climbs in bed behind Tissaia and props her up in a seated position. Her hands deftly braid the long tresses and pin them up in Tissaia’s traditional knot. Tissaia continues to cough and tremble in front of her. Feeling useless, Yennefer can merely comfort her with a gentle massage of the straining muscles of the woman’s back. 

When the coughing finally ceases, Yennefer feels Tissaia collapse against her. 

“I’m going to fix this. I promise.” Yennefer whispers into her hair. 

Tissaia hums in response. The color has once again drained from her face and her eyes have glassed over. Yennefer bites her lip against the wave of grief that washes over her. With a sigh, she slides out from behind her and lowers her gently into the nest she’s created. 

“Sleep.” Yennefer whispers before pressing a chaste kiss to the woman’s temple. 

“Stay.” Tissaia whimpers. “Please.” 

Her cold fingers grasp loosely at Yennefer’s, pulling her back to the bed. 

“Hush.” Yennefer soothes. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

She scoots in next to Tissaia and pulls her tightly against her chest. The numbness persists, alarming her slightly. 

_Just until she falls asleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bring on the sexual tension. Next chapter we will see the girls attempt to heal Tissaia. If I'm brave enough, some smut.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triss finally returns and we see a tender moment between Her and Yennefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter for you. Next chapter will be our crescendo, some smut, and mild resolution. Not too many chapters remain.

Triss returned not much later and Yennefer was thankful for the interruption. The numbness had spread throughout her torso, tingling and cold. Her control of the chaos around her was fragile and she felt a deep sense of loss. It was terribly unnerving. 

Yennefer reluctantly pulled herself away from Tissaia and rolled out of the bed. The Rectoress whimpered briefly at the loss then stilled. 

“I’m sorry.” Triss whispered in the dark. “I went as fast as I could.” 

Yennefer followed her out of the chamber and into the main alcove. The sack Triss was carrying had been emptied on the floor. The curly haired woman had come through and then some.

_’Bless.’_ Thought Yennefer with deep affection. 

A variety of bandages, tubes, bags, and other medical equipment lay on the floor. She pulled out four simple dresses, some apples, a block of cheese, a dagger, and a canteen. 

“Did you run into any trouble?” Yennefer asks. 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Triss replies.

“May I?” Yennefer gestures to the bandage at Triss’s throat. 

Triss nods bleakly and helps to peel the coverings back. Yennefer wipes gently at the remaining paste covering her burns. The worst is right at the center of her chest and shoulder, creeping out toward her throat. The flesh is raw and charred. 

Yennefer reaches out, calling to her magic and is startled to feel it falter, spluttering and dying like fire on wet kindling. The numbness has faded some, lingering only in her hands and fingers, but it is clearly enough to impact her ability to wield. 

“Yennefer, you weren’t careful.” Triss scolds her, eyes closed and feeling out with her own magic. “I feel you, but it’s subtle. Like a whisper.” 

“I truly did not expect that simply touching her would make such an impact.” Yennefer replies honestly. 

It’s a troubling revelation. If it affected her so, what was it doing to Tissaia? 

“She was better, Triss. For a moment, she had that spark in her. I felt the drain it had on me but it didn’t matter. She was there with me and was at least a little bit more comfortable.” 

“It’s okay, Yennefer. Your magic will return. I just want you to feel your limit. You can’t help her if you’ve given all of your chaos to the demeritium.” 

Yennefer hangs her head and squeezes Triss’s forearm in acknowledgement. 

“Eat something, please.” Triss implores. “You’ll feel better after.”

Yennefer readily complies and helps herself to an apple and some cheese. She watches Triss with mild interest as she converts some goose feathers into a small cot. 

“So...you and Sabrina?” She probes slyly around a mouthful of apple. 

Triss’s caramel skin flushes scarlet. 

“I knew it!” Yennefer continues, leaning forward excitedly. 

“So...you and Tissaia?” She fires back, embarrassment settled firmly in her cheeks. 

Yennefer does not betray her own emotions. Impassive enough for Tissaia to be proud, she lets slip only the slightest quirk of her lips. 

“Nothing to report on that front.”

Triss eyes her with blatant disbelief. “The way she called for you, and your inability to be apart...it’s like you were married! You always bickered like an old married couple already!”

Yennefer shrugs her shoulders and tosses the apple core out into the dark. 

“You’ve thought about it though.” Triss states as fact. “You want her. You’ve always wanted her.” 

“I wanted to _be_ her.” Yennefer attempts to correct. “I wanted command the respect she does; to be so powerful and unflappable.” 

This wasn’t going the way she intended. Yennefer meant to have the upper hand in the teasing match. 

“Sure.” Triss agrees genially. “Everybody who wants power and reverence also wants to share the Rectoress’s bed. Common mistake, my apologies.” 

Yennefer lets out a short bark of laughter and waggles her eyebrows in response. There was no way of talking out of this one. Instead, she stands again and wills the magic around her to bend to her command. With only a fizzling false start, she can feel the power deep in her core. She draws the force from the lighted torches around them and manipulates it to her will. The ruined flesh at Triss’s shoulder starts to mend and she lets out a strangled hiss as she falls to the bed. 

“You shouldn’t be using the chaos of fire!” She grits through clenched teeth. 

“Shut up and be grateful.” Yennefer replies as she sits next to her. 

Yennefer’s violet eyes sharply monitor the healing process. She is invested in both the well-being of her friend and in her tenuous ability to perform healing magic. It will scar, of this she is certain. Burns always were temperamental that way. The redness started to fade and the blackened area of dead flesh peeled away to reveal a silvery patch of tender skin where the end of the torch must have made direct contact. The scar that remains is subtle, a sort of malformed star above her heart with the telltale shiny smoothness of a burn. 

“I’m worried about you, Yen.” Triss finally breathes, pain and concern obvious by the flare of her nostrils. 

She placed one hand over her new scar and the other on Yennefer’s hand over her thigh. 

Yennefer bites back an angry retort. Her rage is quick to rise and even harder to quell, and yet deep down she knows Triss does not mean to scold or control her. She was too sweet and mild tempered for such a thing. Truly, the woman was too pure for this world. 

“I know.” Yennefer sighs instead. 

She clasps the hand on her thigh and brings it to her heart in a display of open affection and honesty. 

“I feel...” Yennefer drifts off as she gropes for the appropriate words. “I feel unsettled. I feel everything either too much or too little. I cannot find the balance in my chaos.”

She pauses to organize her thoughts and is relieved that Triss remains silent but attentive. 

“I feel wild. Electrified! Every flame, no matter how small, calls to me. It’s alluring and seductive. Like it knows how _good_ I felt wielding it when I decided to end hundreds of lives.” 

Triss opens her mouth and quickly snaps it shut as Yennefer’s hand covers her mouth, stifling any attempts at assuaging her guilt. 

“I do not regret it. Not for one second. But I can’t turn it off.”

Yennefer slowly removes her hand after a moment, deciding she is done. 

“You went through something that I’m not sure any mage has ever survived.” Triss whispers. “I don’t know how to help you through this, but know that I want to. Even if it’s just to stop you from going too far.”

Yennefer smiles and stands abruptly, suddenly uncomfortable with the level of unconditional friendship she is confronted with. Before all this, she wasn’t even sure she ever had a true friend. 

“I’m going to go check on Tissaia.” 

As Yennefer turns to leave, Triss calls out for her once more. “Be careful, Yennefer. And please get some rest. You’ll need all your energy for tomorrow.” 

Yennefer rolls her eyes at the curly haired woman but takes her advice to heart. She traverses the rooms and settles on the floor next to where Tissaia still sleeps. She needs to be strong enough to do what needed to be done the following morning. 

Yennefer sits with her back against the stone alter where Tissaia lays. The Rectoress is curled tightly into a fetal position and in obvious discomfort. Yennefer keeps her head down, eyes fixed on her own feet on the floor. She is determined to keep Tissaia company, but will not fall into the trap of laying next to her. 

The suddenness of Tissaia’s fingers threading through her hair makes her leap out of her skin. 

“You’re back.” Tissaia states hoarsely, voice ravaged by the severity of her coughs. 

“I was never far.” She hushes. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did we die?” Tissaia asks her curiously. 

Yennefer turns around at the absurdity and studies her face more closely. The woman is pale and sweating. Her usually crystalline eyes are clouded and unfocused. She was fading. 

“No, love.” Yennefer sighs, holding back her tears of grief and frustration. “Go back to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Tissaia does not answer, but reaches out for Yennefer once more. Yennefer moves her body to kneel in front of her and holds her hand gently. She caresses it softly, lulling Tissaia back to sleep. In her own exhaustion, she leans forward and rests her head on her arms at the edge of Tissaia’s bed. It is in this way that she falls asleep, still holding Tissaia’s hand securely in her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is coming to a peak my friends! This chapter didn’t go the way I originally intended but I am overall okay with the way it rolled out. It leaves more room for the smut later!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tissaia’s out of time. Yennefer and Triss have to make due without magic to try to purge the demeritium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a medical professional, so please be lenient with any mistakes that may have been made in this chapter. 
> 
> I’m not very happy with this chapter, but it was this or nothing! Sorry I got stuck for a bit. Hopefully the next chapter will come quicker.

She never let herself drift into a deep sleep, unable to fully relax. She woke from her light doze a few times throughout the night as Tissaia coughed and called out for her in her sleep. 

Yennefer was once again startled awake as Tissaia began to sob. She had kicked the meager covers off sometime in the night and was tossing and turning pitifully. Yennefer reached for the Rectoress and was swatted violently away. 

“Tissaia, it’s okay. You’re safe.” Yennefer attempts to soothe. 

Tissaia again lashes out and slaps Yennefer smartly across the cheek. Yennefer ignores the sting and catches the woman’s wrists firmly in her own. Tissaia’s skin is cold and clammy. Sweat liberally coats her temple and has started to pool at the base of her neck. 

“Tissaia! It’s me, it’s Yennefer.” Yennefer tries again, pulling the woman to her chest. 

This time Tissaia does not fight back. Instead, she collapses weakly into the embrace and shivers. Yennefer holds her tight, letting go of her wrists and wrapping her arms around her waist and shoulders. One hand snakes up to cup the back of her neck affectionately. She pulls away only at the feeling of warm wetness against her chest. 

Startled, Yennefer cups Tissaia’s cheeks and tries to have Tissaia meet her eyes. Blood falls freely from her nose, coating her mouth and chin, as well as the fabric of Yennefer’s chest. Tissaia’s eyes are bloodshot and glazed. Still, she is not fully present and ugly, black veins have colored the corners of her eyes. 

“Triss!” Yennefer chokes on her own desperate cry. “TRISS!”

She hears her scream echo brokenly through the cavern and in no time at all Triss stumbles through the entryway. 

She wastes no time with questions, instead ripping the hem of her dress to staunch the blood at Tissaia’s nose. She helps Yennefer recline her back into a resting position with enough room to tilt her head backwards. 

“She’s out of time.” Triss states stoically. 

“We can’t wait for Sabrina any longer.” Yennefer agrees. “Bring the the medicine bag. We need to start now.” 

Yennefer breathes in deeply to steady her racing heart. In and out. In and out. 

It’s not working. 

Tissaia coughs and blood splatters across Yennefer’s cheek. She doesn’t bother to wipe it away this time, she knows there will be more. 

Yennefer caresses Tissaia’s cheek one last time. 

“Tissaia, are you with me?” She asks.

Her pale eyes focus briefly, and again she is gone. Yennefer blinks back her frightened tears and begins the necessary task of cleaning and sterilizing Tissaia’s arms and her work space. 

“I’m sorry. This is going to hurt but it’s the only chance that we have.” Yennefer explains as she works. “I hope deep down you understand that.” 

Triss returns shortly with the bag and spreads the materials carefully on a transfigured table. 

“Triss,” Yennefer interrupts quietly with a hand stilling the woman’s wrist. “I...I don’t know what’s going to happen. If you wanted to say anything to her, now might be the best time.” 

Yennefer can’t say the fatalistic words aloud. She refuses to acknowledge what may be inevitable. 

Triss’s breath immediately hitches and she gracefully covers the cry. Yennefer turns her back to tend to the materials, allowing the woman as much privacy as can be afforded in the moment. When she turns back, she sees a tender and familial kiss placed at Tissaia’s crown. 

“I’m going to need you. It’s going to get ugly and she’s going to fight back. We need to keep her as calm and as still as possible. That may mean getting rough with her. Can you do that?” Yennefer asks with her hands firmly on the smaller woman’s shoulders. 

Triss nods determinedly and bites her lip with all anxiousness. 

Yennefer begins immediately with an exhale and steady hands. Triss pins Tissaia’s trembling arms to the slab as Yennefer quickly finds a vein and inserts a hollowed needle. Her aim is true and thick blood immediately begins to flow. Tissaia whimpers and attempts to withdraw, but is held firm by Triss’s capable hands. 

“Do the best you can not to touch it.” Yennefer commands. 

They allow only a few moments of drainage. Yennefer watches the steady stream start to slow and ties a tourniquet around Tissaia’s bicep. 

Yennefer does the same to her own. She skillfully pierces her skin with another needle attached to the other end of the tubing and releases both tourniquets. 

“Pray to Melitele or whoever. And tell Sabrina to get a move on!” 

“How much blood will you give her?” Triss asks without removing her grip. 

Yennefer’s eyes follow the path of tubing connecting them together with wary eyes. “As much as I can. As much as our bodies will let me.” 

Tissaia’s contaminated blood has already started to congeal in a sticky, black puddle on the floor. Her attempts to banish the mess were unsurprisingly unsuccessful. The cloying, coppery scent fills the room and makes Yennefer want to heave. It smells like death. 

The transfusion progresses with relative ease. Tissaia remains still underneath Triss’s gentle restraint and drifts in and out of consciousness. After nearly an hour, Triss’s discomfited groan jolts Yennefer to attention. 

“I can’t hold her anymore, Yen.” She whispers. “I can’t feel my arms...the demeritium.” 

“Where is Sabrina?” Yennefer growls with an edge of defeat. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Sabrina’s shrill surprise cuts through the cavern like a rusted knife. 

“Speak of the devil and she doth appear.” Yennefer rolls her eyes. “It’s about fucking time!”

“Yennefer, enough.” A tremulous sigh escapes Triss’s lips as she collapses against the wall. 

“Did you get it?” Yennefer questions, wasting no time. 

“She was out of Celandine.” Sabrina answers. 

The brunette sways against a wave of dizziness and grits her teeth. “And the others?”

Sabrina strides forward and empties the sack on the bed. The subterranean roots tumble out, and to Yennefer, sing to the melody of a thousand hallelujahs. 

Her relief is short lived as Tissaia lets out an unholy scream and begins to convulse. The needle and piping connecting the two rips from her arm and blood erupts unrestrained. 

Triss leaps into action, once again restraining the ailing Rectoress. “She’s seizing!”

Yennefer yanks the remaining tubing away from her own arm and quickly heals the modest puncture. “Sabrina, powder the scarix!” 

She passes the root carefully before clearing the makeshift bed of all the bloodied linens. Conjuring a pitcher of cool water, she soaks a rag and wipes down as much of the flailing woman as she can reach. 

“Please stop!” Tissaia sobs. “I promise I’ll be good!” 

“I can’t stop Tissaia. You will die if I stop.”

“Don’t touch me!” She screams in reply. 

Tissaia inhumanly arches her back and shrieks once more before falling hard against the stone. 

Yennefer uses her moment of stillness and quickly straddles her waist, pinning her torso to the rock. Triss pants, wildly out of breath before calling out for Sabrina. 

The blonde hurries over and passes Yennefer the finely powdered root before switching places with Triss. 

“I’ll start with the scarix. Triss, please prepare the reachcluster.” Yennefer commands. 

In the brief moment of transition, Tissaia turns her head and steadily meets Yennefer’s gaze. The blackness has spread from the corners of her eyes into the soft flesh of her lids and the hollows underneath. The vessels of her eyes have burst, leaving pools of blood to cloud the whites. She looks like a demon from hell. 

“I’m going to kill you.” 

The soft declaration sends a unrestrained chill down her spine. 

“What the fuck, Yennefer?” Sabrina chokes. 

“Ignore her. She’s not herself.” 

“I don’t think she’s taking your blood well. She’s born a fever and is clearly delirious.” Triss supplies from across the room. 

Tissaia uses the moment to buck and her teeth find purchase on Sabrina’s arm. Sabrina squeals in surprise and lets go, cradling the bleeding wound at her forearm. 

“Goddamn she bit me!”

Yennefer manages to keep her balance lower on Tissaia’s thighs. Without her arms restrained, Tissaia lifts herself up into a seated position. Yennefer resists the immediate urge to lean back and remains unmoved, nose to nose; chest to chest. 

“Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?” Tissaia whispers as she slides her fingers up Yennefer’s thighs, her hips, her waist. 

The flats of her hands ghost over Yennefer’s nipples before settling firmly on her upper chest. “You’ve never been able to decide.”

Yennefer swallows hard and remains motionless, refusing to give in to her taunts. Her silence is met with rage. 

Tissaia lets out an angry hiss and wraps a cold hand around her throat. She fists the other through Yennefer’s hair and yanks hard. The motion bares Yennefer’s throat, which she squeezes warningly. 

“Do you want to kill me?” Tissaia whispers into the shell of Yennefer’s ear. “Or fuck me?” 

Tissaia licks a line slowly up the column of Yennefer’s throat and grazes her teeth against the exposed flesh of her pulse point. 

Yennefer exhales her relief as Sabrina recovers her senses and pulls Tissaia harshly back against the slab. 

“She’s fucking insane!” 

“She’s sick.” Yennefer snaps. 

She does not allow another opportunity for mistake. Yennefer scoots her weight back to Tissaia’s waist and rests her knees hard into the shallows of her shoulders. Tissaia will not move again. 

She takes a small amount of the powdered scarix and holds it forcefully over Tissaia’s nose and mouth. 

“Don’t fight it. Breathe it in.” Yennefer instructs calmly. 

But of course she fights, if only for a second. Unable to resist against the forceful restraint, Tissaia can’t help but inhale the powder. 

Yennefer winces slightly at the crackle in Tissaia’s chest and the the following coughs. 

“I can’t breathe!” She wheezes, muffled under the mask of Yennefer’s cupped hands. 

Yennefer forces what she hopes is an encouraging smile. “It will be over soon.” 

Tissaia begins to panic. She bucks hard with no success. The sorceresses have learned from their mistakes and held her with iron grasps. Her breaths quicken and she ultimately takes in more of the powder. Satisfied she has inhaled enough, Yennefer removes her hand. The coughs persist until Tissaia’s body can no longer take the trauma and she begins to vomit. 

“Roll her over!” Triss shouts, coming to their aid. 

Finally, the Rectoress stills. With a quaking shudder, her demonic eyes roll back and she collapses unconscious. 

“Gods, is she dead?” Sabrina whispers. 

“No, just passed out.” Triss answers calmly. “Probably better this way.”

Yennefer easily scoops up her too thin frame and re-settles her gently on the makeshift bed. 

Triss offers mild comfort with a hand at Yennefer’s elbow. “All we can do is wait for her to wake; hopefully in a better state.”

Yennefer merely nods noncommittally. 

“I’ll clean up and finish the reachcluster.” Triss states, sensing her dismissal. 

Yennefer threads her fingers through the matted and sweaty nest Tissaia’s hair has become. She lets her tips gently trace the pinched lines between her brows, attempting to smooth the worry. 

She calls to the chaos that has been building within her to her fingers and lets them ghost across the marred edges of the woman’s eyes. She can feel the pull of the demeritium beckoning to the hot, pulsing energy. The sensation is faint, giving her a flicker of hope that enough of the demeritium is leaving the older woman’s body. 

Yennefer wets another towel and presses it firmly to Tissaia’s temple and neck, willing the fever to recede. She is startled by the woman’s pale hands stilling the movements and immediately meets her gaze.

“If you have ever felt any thread of kindness toward me, you would let me go.” Tissaia croaks. 

“You don’t know what you are asking.” Yennefer scoffs. 

Something in the Rectoress finally breaks as tears begin to flow unrestrained behind clenched eyes. “Yennefer, please. I can’t take anymore. Let me die.”

The tears are a shimmering blue. 

Yennefer cups her jaw and presses her forehead against Tissaia’s with a heavy sigh. “I cannot.” 

Tissaia begins to cry in earnest and rivers of blue paint waterfalls down her cheeks. 

Yennefer can hold back no longer. With all control lost, she pushes every emotion clawing at her heart outward. All the pain, the fear, and the passion flow out of her without abandon. Every piece of her soul reaching for Tissaia, hoping to convey all the things she could never bring herself to say aloud. 

A faint caress against her consciousness whispers back faintly, _I love you too._

And she breaks. Ugly, gasping sobs wrack through her body as she desperately reaches to maintain the tenuous connection Tissaia has managed to open. 

Sabrina thankfully interrupts with a steaming cup she pushes gently into Yennefer’s hands. For once, Sabrina manages to stay silent. 

Triss scoots in behind Tissaia and helps lift her into a supported sitting position. “She needs to drink the entire tonic. Hopefully, it will purge the rest of the demeritium and the scarix can continue to heal the internal damage.” 

Yennefer gathers herself with as much grace as she can muster. A calming breath followed by a soft kiss to Tissaia’s temple, and Yennefer begins to help her drink.

Sabrina’s long, slender fingers help coax the fluid down her throat. Yennefer has to bite back a stab of jealousy at the sight. They give her the dose in small bursts, anxious not to spill a single drop of the precious fluid. 

When the last of the make-shift tea is gone, the women help Tissaia settle as sleep begins to creep in again. Triss and Sabrina share a look and the blonde begins to pull Yennefer away firmly by the elbow. 

“Absolutely not!” Yennefer growls low in her throat, yanking her arm away. 

“You need your rest too.” Triss placates. “There’s nothing more that can be done. I promise you I’ll take care of her. Go, catch your breath.”

Sabrina tugs once more on Yennefer’s arm and this time she complies. Her body feels heavy; exhausted to the point of near collapse from the emotional and physical toil of the week. Honestly, she likely didn’t have much left in her before her body gave out. 

Yennefer lets her body tumble onto Triss’s abandoned cot and turns her head lazily to Sabrina. 

“How was it out there?”

“Temerian soldiers have just started moving out of Sodden. Nilfgaard retreated further south, but Fringilla is still out there somewhere. They are saying that mages saved the Continent.” Sabrina answers with as much positivity as she can muster. “They think we are dead.”

Yennefer lets the notion hang in the air for a long moment. 

“Maybe we should keep it that way.” 

———————————————————- 

Reachcluster- a cure for every known toxins and venoms

Scarix- a root with powerful and universal medicinal qualities." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The roots and herbs mentioned in this chapter are part of the Witcher franchise. As always, I own absolutely nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also request which common FanFic trope I should continue with next in the comments!


End file.
